


Just This Once...

by SoHereWeAre



Series: The Tommen x Sansa Non-Committal Collection [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Spouse, Affairs, Cats, Cheating, Cunnilingus, Dancing, Declarations Of Love, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Feelings Realization, Foot Fetish, Foot Massage, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Sex, Implied/Referenced Abuse, In-Laws, Love Confessions, Making Love, Missionary Position, One Night Stands, Revenge Sex, Secrets, Sexual Tension, Tenderness, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 04:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21009398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoHereWeAre/pseuds/SoHereWeAre
Summary: Sansa Baratheon catches her husband Joffrey in flagrante with her best friend at a Charity Benefit Party. Shocked and betrayed, she turns to her brother-in-law for comfort and feelings come to light that have been hidden in the dark for years.





	Just This Once...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sansafeels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansafeels/gifts).

If she was taught anything in her life, it was to be a proper lady at all times, no matter what the circumstances. 

As she weaved her way through the crowd of spirited, haughty socialites and corporate-climbers, no one glancing at her would notice anything amiss. Her face displayed a quite dazzling smile as she nodded to men and women indiscriminately while executing a flawless walk of poised perfection despite the ache of her feet due to the spiked, peep-toe designer heels that her husband insisted she wear to match her off-white strapless silk gown. Gods, she hated wearing white gowns; it reminded her of her wedding day, but Joffrey loved to see her in white. He said it reminded him of how pure she was for him, and only him. That all men may look upon her fire-haired, blue-eyed beauty but it was he who owned her and used her as he wished. She was Mrs. Joffrey Baratheon. And it was true. He took her virginity carelessly and with impunity, and robbed her of her innocence. She may wear white for him but her hopes and dreams of her fairy tale lover had long turned black; as dark and empty as her husband's heart.

Her throbbing feet carried her to the ballroom where pretentious couples swirled past in their finery, no doubt forgetting this was a charity fundraising event and not a premier ball. Echoes of laughter and chatter floated above the live orchestra, and she recalls that not even an hour before, her own forced giggles added to the offending noise, while she stood by her moody, insolent husband who refused to take her to the dance floor. It was a small unknown mercy, considering her feet felt as if they were walking on pins and needles...much like she did on a daily basis...

Deftly she swiped a glass of champagne from a silver platter floating by in the hands of a suavely dressed server, at whom she offered a low, throaty thank you. Always remembering her courtesies. Even now. She meant to down the bubbly drink in a most unfeminine manner but she stopped in mid-air when a familiar voice wafted over to her.

"Sansa! I - I - could I ... I mean, may I have this dance?"

Turning, she let out a little sigh and beheld the sight of her brother-in-law standing before her, tugging on his black bow tie of his tux. Tall, handsome, blond-haired and green-eyed, he could nearly be a doppelganger for his older brother despite being five years his junior and having more compassion and warmth in his pinky fingernail than Joffrey Baratheon had in his whole body.

"Tommen." Sansa disregarded her glass and deposited it back to a silver tray untouched. "You've never asked me to dance in your life -"

"I - well, Old Lady Bolton keeps after me for another turn and -" He craned his neck to scan over the crowd before leaning in to attempt to whisper - "she grabbed my butt and called me cheeky."

Surprisingly, for the shock she experienced minutes ago, Sansa laughed and reached out in acceptance. Her brother-in-law's face scrunched up as if it pained him to say "butt", and no doubt it did, just as it pained him to be in formal wear. She had never heard the man cuss, not once in all the years she had known him. Shy, sweet, disregarded Tommen,truly one of only two of the Baratheon or Lannister family she could stand. His sister Myrcella was the other, just the same as him in disposition. How they had come the body of Cersei Lannister-Baratheon was beyond her.

Tommen smiled nervously as he accepted her outstretched arms as a yes, keeping a respectable and stiff distance as they started to dance, stepping into the throng of the other couples. It was an easy row and Sansa was thankful, even though her toes shot tiny darts of pain that seemed to creep all the way up to her shins. He was a skilled dancer and she wondered why he never danced at the many parties thrown by the elite around the city. Then again, he rarely attended such functions. 

Sansa loved to dance but since the day she and Joffrey started dating, he forbade her to dance with anyone else as he did not want strange men touching what was his. He usually refused to take her for a spin on the floor, despite being a graceful dancer, and she was always left yearning and wanting, much like their marriage.

Exceptions were made for family, of course. 

Thinking of Joffrey made Sansa bite her lip and her smile slipped.

"Sansa, are you - " Tommen cleared his throat. "Are you all right?"

She looked up into the deep emerald eyes and found genuine concern in them. His cheeks were flushed and his full, pouty lips slightly opened. It reminded her of the time when she had first started dating Joff and he had ran over to her to give her a daffodil as a gift in the garden. A sweet gesture that made her smile, only to furrow her brow and bite her lip as Joff tore it to bits after he left, saying flowers should only come from him, not his stupid little fat brother who carried around cats all day -

Well, Tommen was neither stupid nor fat. Quite the contrary, and it was more noticeable now that she was dancing with him. She tensed a little when she recalled how Margaery commented over coffee on his dancing skills and other attributes best left unknown. Marg and Tommen had a brief relationship before he was even of legal age, which had disgusted Sansa when she found out. It was the only time she ever yelled at her friend, called her a cradle-robbing whore, and demanded she stop seeing him immediately, all to which Margaery merely smirked and said she'd stop when her little lovesick fuckboy stopped being interesting. Which happened about two weeks later when Sansa noticed bruises and bites starting to pepper her body. Marg had sensually laughed and said she found a more exciting prospect -

"I - I am fine, Tom, I just -" The instant connecting of the dots made her a little sick and she wondered if Joff's betrayal had been a long-time thing. "I -"

For some reason, she glanced over the crowd and saw Joffrey appear, his blonde hair messed and his shirt rumpled. Her stomach tightened as Margaery Tyrell walked in behind him, smoothing down her dark green and gold gown and running fingers through her tousled brown locks. Joff took two glasses from a waiter, chugging one and then offering Margaery the other, who took it with a sensual smirk.

Margaery, her friend. Tommen's ex-girlfriend.

"Sansa?" 

She shook her head and took a deep breath. 

"I need some fresh air. I'm sorry, Tom, please excuse me -"

Blindly, she pushed Tommen away and made her way to the opposite exit to avoid her husband, her chest tightening. She could feel the tears start in her eyes as she smiled at friends and family, waving and speaking as if nothing was amiss. It took no time for her to retrieve her wrap and purse from the coat check area and wander gracefully out of the Tyrell mansion as if she was truly just stepping outside for some air and perhaps space.

Absentmindedly she starting rummaging around in her clutch before she remembered Joffrey drove them here. Of course. 

Suddenly the tears spilled over and she wept.

"Sansa!" The voice behind her prompted her to hastily wipe her eyes. "Sansa, what's wrong?"

She turned to see Tommen racing down the wide entry steps, his long black coat unbuttoned and floating behind him, his face one of concern as his eyebrows furrowed. His compassion made her lose control - if only for a moment - as she flung herself into his arms, crying into his jacket. She felt his arms circle around her, his head resting on top of hers. He was warm, and strong, but strong in a good way. Joff's arms were like steel, and his strength hurt her every time he grabbed, pushed, slapped, hit, and fucked her. His gentleness in public was a sham, a facade to the adoring public who couldn't get enough of the golden boy with the beautiful wife and charmed life. Even on display, she could feel the cruelty beneath any seemingly affectionate touch. She had been so fooled when she was younger. He had been so charming and intense and she had been so flattered with his attentions and his demands that she be his wife. Now, looking back with opened eyes she realized all of it had been for show and she was no more to him than a pretty pony to be paraded before an audience.

Suddenly she wrenched free of the soothing embrace and shoved at his chest. 

"Stop, before Joffrey sees you," she managed to choke out, furiously wiping at her eyes and attempting to compose herself while avoiding his gaze. "Can you take me home, please? I can't - I just can't go back in there -"

"Uh, sure, I can do that." Tommen cleared his throat and she heard him fishing for his keys."Just stay right here, I'll pull the car around."

All she could do was nod and pray he was quick about it.

Stupid, so stupid of her to cry now. Why should she care about Joff? He was cruel, hateful, spiteful. Why have these feelings?

Within moments Tommen was swerving down the circle drive in his silver BMW sedan, coming to a choppy stop only a few paces from her. She started to painfully walk past the driver's side, attempting a brisk step, and Tommen clumsily shot out of the driver's seat to sprint around to open the passenger door for her. She smiled shakily but still avoided looking at him full in the face while she slipped into the smooth black leather seat, arranging her dress and wrap before buckling in and fishing for her phone.

The car smelled like fresh linens and it was oddly calming.

Tommen kept his silence as he buckled up and pulled away cautiously, looking back in the rear view. It was as if he was making sure his older brother wasn't watching him drive off with his wife.

"I need to call him." It came out in a small and even breath, as if she hadn't been crying at all. "Just so he knows I left. I would hate for him to be worried."

Her brother-in-law said nothing as they neared the first stop light. He would be making a left to take her back home, to the towering, beautiful house that was her prison. What would she do there? Sit and wait for her husband to come home, hopefully alone? Wait for him to angrily demand why she left him at the party while she smelled Margaery on him? Leaving without permission on a whim - she couldn't tell him the real reason she departed so hastily - what would that bring her? 

"I can't go home." She whispered it, ashamed that the tears started forming again. "I just can't."

"Do you want to stop at my place? Just long enough for you to get your bearings? It's really no problem, Sansa. Maybe being somewhere else for a little while will do you some good."

The worry in his voice just set the waterworks free and she started really crying then. It wasn't for Joffrey and Margaery and it wasn't for herself. It was his concern, his compassion. 

"I'm sorry Sansa." Sweet of him, to apologize for something he knew nothing about. One hand left the steering wheel to fumble inside his coat, pulling out a white handkerchief with an embroidered T on it. "Here, please take this."

She accepted the white cloth with a thank you but merely bunched it up into the ball of her fist while staring down at her phone. She'd be damned if she was going to blow a wad of snot into his perfectly white monogrammed fabric. Instead, she got it together enough to concentrate on texting Joff instead of calling, letting him know she received a call from Arya and she was heading over to her place because it seemed urgent. Immediately she fired off a text to her sister, knowing she would happily agree to lie for her because she hated Joffrey with the heat of a thousand suns. Sansa knew Joffrey would not be showing up at Arya's door to make sure Sansa's story checked out. Joff was scared of Arya, rightly so, considering she pulled a knife on him a few years back. Everyone was either shocked or snickered behind Joff's back about it, but Sansa was just happy she had a new way to avoid her husband sometimes.

This time most of all.

As she predicted, Arya replied immediately no problem, she had it covered. One thing about her younger sister, she never got nosy and never asked questions. She wished she could take on her sibling's couldn't-give-two-shits attitude, but then again Arya was not married into the most influential and powerful family in the city.

Sansa wanted to look over at Tommen and start some inane chatter to distract herself but instead stuffed her cell into her tiny purse and turned to stare out into the night through her passenger window as the car smoothly rolled on in an almost soothing way. It wasn't the first time she had been in the car with Tommen driving but it was the first time she appreciated his cautious ways as opposed to Joff's careening and screeching of tires every single time. 

Margaery always liked fast cars and arrogant men. 

The silence continued for the remainder of the drive and Sansa was thankful for it. 

********************

Tommen's house was on the outskirts of the city and modest in comparison to the other Baratheon and Lannister homes. It was still lovely, a two story stucco with a dark red roof and a three car garage, but it was nearly a shack in contrast to the mansions owned by his family. Tommen refused all assistance from his father or brother, angering Robert Baratheon by becoming a lowly Veterinarian rather than entering Baratheon Enterprises as another heir-presumptive. The only thing he accepted was the car, a college graduation gift from his mother, and the money left to him in his grandfather Tywin's will. 

The driveway lights greeted them as Tommen glided around to the garage, parking and seamlessly rushing to open the door for her as the garage door completely closed behind them. She whispered her thanks, still refusing to look at him as she slid from her seat as ladylike as she could, her torturous heels clicking on the cement as she followed him into the house as he turned on the lights.

A plaintive meow greeted them and Sansa managed to smile a fluffy orange tabby made its way to sit by Tommen as he took her wrap and purse to hang in the hall closet while kicking off his Italian shoes into a dark corner space, revealing he wore no socks. No sooner did he close the door than he was scooping the little feline up to give Sansa a better view. The cat seemed more interested in her owner as she head-butted into Tommen's chest, purring so loud Sansa could hear it.

"This is Lady Pounce." Only then did Sansa finally meet his eyes after traveling from the new cat hair being left on his black tuxedo jacket. He was smiling, making an effort to cheer her as he offered Lady Pounce up to her to pet. Just like he has always offered her cat cuddles since he was just a kid.

"She's so cute. Hi, Lady Pounce." Hesitantly she scratched the top of her head before drawing her hand back and she smiled despite everything. "She's new?"

"She was abandoned at the office. I checked her and then brought her home. She's taken over the house already. Catster doesn't seem to mind too much."

Sansa laughed a little as he gently set Lady Pounce down and started sheepishly brushing off the cat hair.

"It's a losing battle, you know. A hair or two will always cling." Her eyes followed a tiny tuft of fur as it floated down to land on the top of his bare foot. His feet were slender and his toenails trimmed. She wondered why she should even care what his feet looked like.

"Black is no friend of mine," Tommen admitted before shrugging off the Armani jacket. "Hopefully I won't need to wear this again for awhile."

They walked the short hall past the laundry room before entering the kitchen, where Tommen thoughtlessly tossed the expensive article of clothing across one of the leather bar stools by the high counter. The action was so Joff-like that Sansa's smile diminished as Lady Pounce trotted by to find her food and water dishes, joined out of nowhere by the old, cranky, black-and-white Catster. She felt ill again and clutched Tommen's hankie in her hands even tighter.

"Could I - may I trouble you for a drink?" She knew Tommen kept wine handy. No hard liquor like she was used to at her home, but it would suffice. When her brother-in-law assented by easing around the counter and heading for the fridge to pull out a pitcher of ice water, she tried to be more specific."Something with a little more of a... warmth than water, maybe?"

"Sure. No problem." Seamlessly he cut his actions short and went straight for a bottled wine from his array of choices. French Bordeaux. Her favorite. Joff couldn't even remember her favorite color. 

Sansa winced as she made her way closer while Tommen retrieved wine glasses. He afforded her a furtive glance before turning back.

"Go ahead and make yourself comfortable in the living room," he offered, the words not quite fully out before Sansa found herself hobbling past the rest of the kitchen and into the generous living area, sinking thankfully into the overstuffed hunter green couch. Even so, she crossed her legs and smoothed her gown about her decorously. She dared not kick off her heels; not because she has some ghastly foot odor or anything, but it was just plain ill-mannered, even in a family member's home. Instead she pulled out the tiny pearl clips that held her hair in an updo, letting her auburn waves fall messily around her shoulders.

She relaxed a little, listening to wine being poured into two glasses, then a pause; then another pouring. 

Tommen had downed a whole glassful and then replenished.

He arrived with her own sustenance a few minutes later. His bow tie was already discarded somewhere and his shirt was modestly two buttons undone. She remembered to say thank you with a shaky smile as she accepted his offered glass and he chose to sit opposite her in a matching green recliner that was noticeably hosting a few cat hairs. He leaned forward, clasping his glass with both hands, his face of concern as he eyed her almost shyly. The silver chain he always wore around his neck peeked out from his white shirt as she shifted a little. Sansa could tell he was uncomfortable but worried.

"Do you - do you want to talk about it?"

Sansa closed her eyes to avoid those deep green ones and gulped down her wine unceremoniously. The warmth flooded her throat and chest. She didn't know if Tommen still held any adoration for Margaery but there was a possibility he did. He was always a sensitive soul and Marg had been his first lover and she dumped him like toxic waste when her fun waned. He had taken the breakup hard but he had been much younger then. Certaintly he had other girlfriends since, none really staying too long, with Lyanna Mormont being the most recent. Even she didn't last past the six month mark but strangely he always remained friends with his exes. He even treated Margaery with respect and she deserved it least of all. Especially now.

"I caught Joffrey fucking Margaery at the party tonight," she announced bluntly, the wine fortifying her as she spilled the beans in a very uncouth manner. She twisted the hankie in one hand and clenched the wine glass in the other. It felt good to say it out loud and keeping her eyes closed helped. "Some guests were asking for my husband and I went in search of him. I knew he liked to use the third floor bathroom of the Tyrell mansion and - well, let's just say he was in a room that didn't include a toilet."

One of her eyes opened halfway to peek.

Tommen drained the wine from his glass in seconds before setting it on the end table as if nothing was amiss. Sansa followed suit and opened her eyes fully, watching Tommen's slender hand reach up to twist at his chain, working his long fingers down to the pendant there. His eye blazed dark - something she's never seen on him before but she's seen it with Joff a million times -before settling into a softer green.

"I'm sorry, Sansa. You shouldn't be disrespected like that." He formed the words slowly, as if his brain was trying to carefully choose what came out of his mouth. "You are too good of a person and you deserve better."

"I'm not a good person. I'm a stupid person. A stupid girl who thinks I can change who my husband is." 

"It isn't your job to change him. He needs to change himself." Tommen cleared his throat. "I don't know how any man could even think of cheating on you. Any man who wouldn't cherish you is a damn fool."

She told herself she wasn't going to cry again over it but she did. It wasn't even over the fact of Joffrey's infidelity or her best friend's betrayal. It was over the kindness in his voice laced with anger at Joffrey. It almost reminded her of Robb telling her he she was a damn fool for agreeing to marry Joff and he would not attend the wedding. It was the same mixed tone. But where she screamed at her brother to stop being a stubborn jerk, she could only cry at Tommen's words.

"Sansa, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry. It's the last thing I'd ever want to do." He rushed over to her, sitting on the couch and gathering her into his arms, propriety be damned."Please forgive me."

For a moment she allowed herself to breathe in his scent and relax, her breath taking in huffs while she tried to control her tears. The warmth of him and the feel of his muscles against her flickered something and she lifted her head to look up at him, greeted with a sad, tight-lipped smile.

"No, no it's not you. I mean, I -" For the second time that night, she pushed him away, gripping her empty wine glass tighter. "I just - I feel like smashing this glass to bits. Maybe over Joff's head."

"If it makes you feel better, then smash it." His eyebrows lifted and his smile expanded. "Go ahead."

"What?" Her own brows furrowed in confusion and she moved further from him on the couch. "What are you -"

"Here." Tommen stood up and boldly grabbed her hands, pulling her towards the fireplace. "Go ahead," he repeated. 

"Tom, I am not going to destroy an obviously expensive wine gl -"

Tommen released her to swipe up his own and hurl it into the darkened fireplace with precision and speed. It shattered into a million pieces and Sansa could hear the cats scurrying down the hall in the opposite direction. A muscle worked in Tommen's pronounced cheekbones as he turned towards her.

"That was - that was - irresponsible!" She felt the need to be indignant. "Shards of glass could have bounced back and -"

"We're far enough away. I'm a good shot. It felt good! Go ahead! Pretend the fireplace is Joff's face. Pretend it's the face you saw when you cracked opened that door -"

Sansa took two steps and flung it at the fireplace where she envisioned Joff making his sneering sex face while fucking Marg from behind. His face faded in an explosion of shards. Amazingly it was a great shot and it did feel kind of good, but when she spun around she wavered, wincing, her shoes pinching her toes.

"Sansa! What's wrong?" Tommen reached for her but she backed away and flopped back onto the couch.

"My stupid shoes. These Italian torture devices that cost three grand that Joff insisted I wear. Talk about shards of glass." The tears started to form in her eyes again. "I guess they are a good metaphor for my marriage."

"You can take them off, you know."

"I can't go barefoot in your house," she muttered indignantly."It's bad enough I'm telling you about catching your brother with your ex -"

She sniffed back her runny nose and blinked, enough time for Tommen to kneel at her feet and slowly pull off the first peep-toe shoe. It threw her off-guard and she allowed him to slip the other off as well while she subconsciously made sure her legs were closed tightly together, even though the hem of her gown reached below her shins. The release gave her some relief and she sighed until her toes jerked with little tingling jolts of pain. She focused on them, for some reason very thankful her toes were well manicured and painted a rose red to match her nails. Still, she scrunched her feet up as Tommen still knelt, sitting back onto his own feet. 

"Don't worry about being barefoot, Sansa. I'm already barefoot, so you are just joining me. Does it feel better to have the shoes off?"

"It feels like shards of that wine glass got stuck in my toes." 

Tommen looked up at her with something like panic before he picked up her left foot to bring forth for his inspection. Sansa's first instinct was to jerk her foot away in protest but the feel of his hand cupping her foot was unfamiliar and disturbing. She's never had a man touch her feet in such a way before; definitely not the way his fingertips smoothed over the tips of her toes as he looked for any marring. The feeling made her temporarily forget her husband woes as a small thread of electricity crawled up her leg straight to her -

_Oh_.

"I - I didn't mean literally," she managed to stammer out even as she lifted her other foot for inspection.

"Can't be too sure."

He seemed very focused on setting her right foot to rest on his knee while he turned his attention on to her left one. Maybe he was treating her like he would one of his cat or dog patients who might have something in their paws, maybe, because nothing in his demeanor gave away anything unseemly on his part. Yet the way his fingers glided over the tips of her toes was anything but innocent to her. It had to be the stress over Joff's tryst playing tricks on her mind. 

"I don't see anything, but your foot is dark pink where the shoe covered it. And you need to be able to relax your toes. You danced so gracefully I had no idea you were in agony."

_I've hidden my agony well over the years_, she wanted to say. _You and your whole family haven't seen all the pain I've managed to hide behind pretty smiles and expensive makeup. The shoes are nothing in comparison_.

Instead she fell silent while Tommen began massaging the arch of her foot.

She tried to rack her brain for the last time anyone gave her a foot massage and came up blank. Pedicures were a staple but massages? She's tended to them herself sometimes but it didn't feel like this. Tommen had nimble fingers, a natural warmth to his hands without being sweaty. She's watched him work before, handling animals with care, and maybe she's noticed his hands, how they seamlessly toil over his non-human patients with precision and care. Kind hands. Hands that would never strike in anger or punch into walls in a rage or jam their fingers into untried and dry, tense holes.

For the first time in perhaps forever, Sansa allowed herself to feel something good. It was only a foot rub after all. Did it really matter how her body was responding? Maybe it made sense how her legs felt like jelly, how his touch seemed to border on ticklish or sensual but the sensation was near to oddly erotic? She was still young, not even in her prime yet and her whole being cried out for what most people took for granted: a little TLC. Dimly she recalled some movie where two men were arguing if foot jobs were the same as going down on a woman and one asked the other if he would give a guy a foot rub, winning the argument. 

Well, she couldn't say what someone going down on her felt like, either. Maybe it was like a foot rub.

Sansa looked down at Tommen, who kept his gaze on her feet. Thank the gods she had pretty little feet. The ache in her toes and heels started to subside but now a different kind of ache was building higher up; not an unpleasant one, but disturbing and forbidden. She could attempt to ignore it but now she felt the tension between her legs, and damned if she didn't feel the dampness in her French cream-colored silk panties. It was a little - no - a lot of wrong and she almost pulled away, but instead she finally creaked out some words while rubbing a piece of the hankie between her fingers.

"That necklace you wear. I don't think I've ever asked you why you wear it or what it is? You've had it for awhile?"

"Yes, I have." Tommen cleared his throat and kept his eyes averted as he started to work her other foot again. "Since I was sixteen. I've never taken it off, either, no matter how many times Joff taunted me about wearing girls' jewelry and kept asking me if I like guys."

"I'm sorry he was so cruel to you, Tom." 

"I know. You helped me as much as you could since we were kids, and I've always appreciated it. I don't really mind you asking." His skilled hands smoothed up over her ankle bones, then inward. Sansa shivered but he didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he did, because he started to talk faster."Remember when Ser Pounce died? You came over to help with the burial and funeral. I was sixteen at the time but I knew you wouldn't judge me for crying, and you wouldn't tell Joff either."

Sansa nodded, hearkening back to that day. It was heartbreaking when Ser Pounce died. She had made a flower wreath to lie on top of the grave Tommen had dug for him in the woods behind the Baratheon Estate.

"Well, I -" His beautiful eyes glanced up at her and he drew in a deep breath before squaring his shoulders. "You made a wreath. You placed it on the grave and you held my hand while I said my goodbyes. Your compassion for others always astounded me, Sansa, and that day I knew I -"

He gently laid her foot down and began on the other again.

"I plucked a petal from your wreath and pressed it into this locket." Half of the warmth on her feet deserted her as he pulled the chain out to flash the round charm before letting it drop back down into his shirt."I haven't taken it off since."

Something flickered in her mind at his earnest confession and puppy-dog eyed look he gave her as he resumed his wonderfully delicious massage. Joff had always insisted his younger brother had a pathetic crush on her and laughed it off, even as Sansa kept her insistence that Tommen was only being sweet as was his nature. Tommen was caring towards everyone, not just her, so it wasn't as if he singled her out for preferential treatment. Still, right now, she couldn't decipher if his hands were merely being helpful or if they were deliberately being sensual, as if he longed to touch her in some way that didn't involve a brotherly hug and was taking this opportunity to get his fill. No, that wasn't right. Tom would never use her distress to take advantage of her. He was not his brother.

"It is sweet of you to remember your first cat that way, Tom. I don't know many guys who would care like that." It sounded silly but it was all she could think of to say. She said it cautiously, softly, as she did not want to jeopardize this current state of affairs.

Affairs.

_Affair_.

Thinking of Marg and Joff didn't trigger tears this time around. She felt herself becoming numb to her husband's actions while growing more alive to her brother-in-law's.

"I care about you, too, Sansa. I hate that Joff has hurt you like this. I wish there was something I could do besides going over there and giving him a good beat down."

"He won't change." Her eyes focused on the chain laid against his unblemished skin just inside the half-unbuttoned shirt; anything was better than staring at his pale pink lips or his empathetic, soulful eyes. She could see a tiny bit of dark blonde chest hairs just above where his shirt remained buttoned. "He will never be like you, Tom. And you are nothing like him and I wouldn't want you to change that with violence."

Maybe it was her lower tone, maybe it was the way she arched her foot and pushed into his hand, but he responded to her actions by lifting her foot to his lips, planting a kiss just below her toes. She should have jumped, jerked her foot away, and demand he take her home; tell him that he had no business kissing her brother's wife in such a manner and Joff would kill him and her, too, if he ever found out. She knew he would stop, be contrite, and do as she wished.

Instead, she gasped a little, her heart hammering instantly against her chest. 

Her reaction brought forth more small kisses, each one lingering longer than the last; his warm breath and velvet lips sending tingles up her spine and elsewhere. Her other foot pressed hard into his knee enviously as his hands caressed freely over and under while lips covered the arch. Soft enough to be a lover's touch, hard enough not to tickle, it was the sexiest thing Sansa has ever felt and guilt was not even a distant knock on the door of her conscience.

She couldn't even blame it on the wine. She only had one glass.

When his hand smoothed over her heel, then around the ankle and up even further, she inadvertently let out a tiny whimper. It was enough to break whatever boldness had possessed Tommen and he placed her foot down before backing away and standing up, jamming his hands into the pockets of his black designer pants and bowing his head.

"Forgive me, Sansa. I'm sorry."

He was sorry? Ashamed? He had just given her the most pleasurable feeling in her life and all he could do was hang his head like a reprimanded child and apologize? Her feet throbbed in protest and her stomach coiled. She realized how she wanted something good, something special in her life, and there was no way she was going to let this be swept under the rug with an apology and awkwardness.

Before she could open her mouth and say anything, Tommen looked down at her with a contrite look on his handsome face. Like he had just accidentally ran over a squirrel.

"I should take you to Arya's. Or Bran's. Or Jeyne's. Or -"

"Home?" The word was bitter on her tongue. "Would you rather me go home to Joff?"

"I've _never_ wanted you to go home to my brother," he admitted quietly. "Every family dinner, holiday, public event, picnic, or visit... it always makes me sick to know at the end of them all you go home to Joffrey."

"Then let me stay." It was all she could manage to say as his words resonated to her a deeper meaning that increased her heartbeat.

"I can't. Not after what I did -"

"What you did? You took away my pain, Tommen, and made me feel something good for a change. There is no wrong in that. Besides, you've had two glasses of wine, and you had how many at the charity ball? You probably shouldn't be driving in the first place."

"Then I'll call a cab to wherever you want - I - I will pay the fare, too, and -"

"Oh, for god's sake, Tom!" 

Frustration and panic at losing this feeling bolted Sansa barefoot from the couch over to her brother-in law where she clasped her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. The mad rush to lock lips dissolved on contact to something slow and near to melting as Tommen put up no resistance to bending down and accepting her desperation; rather, his full lips drew back only slightly to relieve the pressure and then parted hers in a honeyed kiss Sansa has only ever imagined in her girlish dreams. His mouth was respectful yet she could feel the want and it sent waves of excitement coursing through her whole body. It was lovely, special, their meeting of lips again and again, made all the more sweet by his hands giving in and making their way to cup gently around her face. It was almost a feather touch and his hands were smooth against her cheeks; as light and airy as his breath blending into hers.

Tommen drew back when she gasped a little, gingerly touching his forehead down to hers.

"Sansa," he whispered, his voice husky. " I -"

"Don't say it, Tom. Please just...don't say it." Her hands skimmed down to where the first button was secured shut. She has never been one to take the initiative but her whole body was flushed with feeling and it emboldened her to unbutton his shirt down to this waist and press her hands into his chest. She has seen his bare torso before, countless times on family summer vacations, but she never thought there would be a time, this time, where she would be smoothing her fingers over his washboard abs and feeling the thin line of dark golden sparse chest hair before tracing over the locket that hung straight down. She had nothing to fear from him, not when his chest rose and fell so intensely while his heart thumped so rapidly but his hands remained gentle. Knowing she was safe made her impulsively duck her head down to plant a kiss where his heart hammered.

"Sans -" His utterance of her name never met its end as she leaned her whole body up against him, easily feeling his erection against the smooth silk of her gown. His hands dropped to her waist to move her away from his arousal and it felt like his palms were burning through her dress. She tilted her chin up and stared at him with widened eyes.

It was a myriad of emotions flashing across his face and Sansa knew he was conflicted; that if she said or did the wrong thing, then their moment would be over before it even truly began. She knew he wanted her, but she was his brother's wife and in a vulnerable state and perhaps she not thinking very clearly. Even as turned-on as he obviously was, he was considering her welfare above all else and it made Sansa want this all the more. She recognized his struggle and desperately tried to assuage it.

"I want to feel something _good_," she admitted, not trusting herself to speak above a whisper. Her hands stole back around his neck as her knees felt weak. "_Just this once_. Please, Tommen."

She honestly didn't know what he would do but his throat constricted in a hard swallow, the veins in his neck pulsing as he made his choice and scooped her up into his arms. Sansa suppressed a noise that instead died in her throat as she clasped her arms around his neck, locking her hands behind him and allowing her fingers to caress where his short hair ended before the nape of his neck.

It seemed to take forever or maybe it was only mere seconds for him to carry her effortlessly over to the stairs and up to his room, a room she has been in only once before when she was helping him decide what items to donate to a charity drive. It was the largest room in the house and also the most sparse, with only the King sized bed with nightstand, one dresser and mirror, a wing-backed chair, and wall mounted TV. She had helped him pick out the no-frills cherry wood furniture with the plush burgundy comforter, a contrast to the dark gold carpet. It exuded warmth and simplicity. Much like its occupant.

There was little attention to be paid now to the furnishings but Sansa blinked in the airy glow of the table lamp while her eyes adjusted. It was slightly awkward when Tommen placed her on the bed and then paused as if he were actually debating if this was something they should do. She felt exposed and vulnerable lying on his pillow in the middle of his own bed but before she could feel uneasy - or entertain second thoughts herself - she reached up to pull him down nearly on top of her. She wanted more of his sweet kisses.

Her uncharacteristic forwardness was rewarded with his soft yet firm lips moving against hers again. It felt so ethereal, like she was floating, and it was even better when he moved to trail the same illuminated kisses across her cheek, down her chin, and into her waiting arched neck. The tingling was thrilling and the sensation was so new and welcomed that maybe, just maybe she threaded her fingers through his silky blonde hair to press him in and possibly her body bucked up slightly into his. 

Unmistakably she heard him murmuring against her throat, asking if she was sure. She responded in kind by leaving his golden tresses to pull his shirt out of its tucked state, feverishly freeing the last buttons from their entrapment. He allowed her pull it off and if it looked clumsy to the outside world, it felt the most natural thing in the moment for Sansa to toss the shirt aside and rear up enough to jaggedly unzip the side of her dress. She hated her gown, so tight around her bosom that she hadn't needed a bra. She felt constricted as soon as she was zipped into it by Joffrey -

She closed her mind to how her husband's cold hands inspected her as she brazenly pushed the top half down, leaving her breasts exposed to only the second man in her whole life to see them. She only felt the cool air for a heartbeat and then it was his warm mouth kissing them just as he had kissed her mouth, followed by hands running lightly up her sides, causing her to shiver in delight. She dared to look down at him. He was already gazing up at her and the look made her squirm. The dim light helped hide what little trepidation or nervousness she had which were diminishing with each kiss and caress against her bare flesh. When his tongue circled her nipple as he sucked she couldn't stop the little squeak of shock and he paused.

Stopping was something she definitely did not want him to do.

Again she pressed up into him but this time her hands gripped her gown at the waist, intent on pulling it further down and off. Tommen needed no other encouragement as he lent his assistance and the mess of silk and embroidered pearls was thrown to the floor as if it didn't cost more than what most people made in a year.

Tommen reared up and scooted back and sat in between her legs and in her confusion Sansa crossed her arms modestly over her chest. She must look so debauched lying against his wine-colored bedding, hair mussed, lips swollen from kissing and makeup smeared from crying, plus now clad only in her pair of delicate French panties that were no doubt soaked through. She could feel the wetness causing parts of the silk to stick to her nether region and wondered if Tommen could see it - if he would just look. Yet he wasn't looking there, or anywhere else but straight into her eyes. The intensity and reverence in his shining eyes was too much for her to bear so she attempted to look elsewhere. He was just sitting there all bare-chested and handsome and chiseled but somehow looking so boyish and innocent and shy and oh, she never noticed how sensually shaped his lips really were, or how his biceps matched his squared shoulders so very nicely. Tommen was truly a handsome man, beautiful even. Inside and out.

His silver chain lay dormant against his chest, nestled against the thin line of chest hair that narrowed even more down into the waistband of his dress pants. From this angle she could see the outline of his hardened cock and she bit her lip. This was really happening, it wasn't some kind of little fantasy she played in her head. She was actually in her brother-in-law's bed and waiting a little too eagerly for him to fuck her. _Was this really her? Was this really him? Did it really matter_ ?

Without knowing why, she raised one long, slim leg up so she could bring her foot up to his chest to the pendant. Her toes poked at it, trying to flick it forward enough to wriggle underneath it. She noticed his neck constricting and he finally broke his stare only because he grasped her foot with his hands, leaning in to kiss her toes just as he had in the living room, only this time it was more daring, more insistent, and less lingering as he made his way to her ankle and up to her shin, and then - _oh_, his tongue and mouth were making a damp trail to her knee, gliding inward, his hands - his hands, smooth even as they were trembling. Maybe her legs were the things shaking, not his exploring fingers tracing a pattern against her heated skin. 

It was when he crouched down between her legs while his hands moved up to spread her thighs that she threw her head back onto his pillow and closed her eyes. She swore her heart was going to leap out of her chest and her whole body tensed but then electrified as his mouth lowered down onto her where her panties clung like a second skin. Even with the barrier she could feel his warm breath heavy against her folds. 

Inadvertently her hips tilted upwards in an entreaty and her silent plea was rewarded as Tommen slid her panties off with such misplaced grace. She wondered how many panties he's slid off and how many women he's done this to, but not that it mattered. She tried to ignore her instant jealousy for the lovers who enjoyed this consideration before her and it was easy enough to do when his mouth returned his attentions to her already wet, swollen center. 

For one moment she was embarrassed at how messy she was, wondering how she must smell to him, and hoping he didn't mind her bald pussy. Joff made her wax daily, abhorring any hair. Not that it mattered. He didn't pay any attention to her there, not beyond jamming a finger every now and then but it was for his pleasure not hers. 

Again she closed her mind off from Joffrey. 

Not that she has any other choice as Tommen's lips and tongue were licking, kissing, sucking, making her gasp out tiny little whines of pleasure and she abandoned any thoughts of inadequacy or distastefulness. Obviously he seemed to like the way she smelled, felt, tasted; she could hear and feel his heavy breathing against her and something like a low groan emitted from him. Tommen was a man of very little words but he always wore his emotions on his sleeve and in his eyes -

Daringly she opened her eyes and lifted her chin and immediately wish she hadn't. 

Tommen was already watching her even as his mouth continued its worship.

His eyes were shining emerald fire in the lamplight.

She couldn't bear it but when she felt his finger glide down to her entrance before sliding in so easily she simply thrashed her head back down with a convulsive catching of her breath. She expected him to start jackhammering - it was what she was used to - but it was a slow finger-fucking, moving in tandem with his mouth. It felt like reverence and adulation and Sansa gave herself over to it with hedonistic abandon, chasing the high with every fiber of her being. Building, climbing, selfishly she wanted to cum but she wanted him to stay there doing this forever. She needed him to give her the sensations she'd long since been denied because it was the most powerful feeling she's ever experienced. But she was no match for Tommen's expertise or her own demanding desire so she allowed the climax its natural course and when it swept over her she felt it from the tip of her well-kissed toes to the top of her dizzying head.

Her cry was sharp and unfettered and foreign to her but it was unbridled and completely hers as her hands gripped what pieces of the comforter she could and her thighs unconsciously squeezed Tommen to keep him in place. As her clit throbbed he sucked mercilessly while groaning into her, intensifying her orgasm as his finger moved faster. She couldn't help but thrash her head into the pillow, her cry turning to a low moan.

Too soon she was coming down and his finger slowly withdrew as his mouth was reduced to gentle licks and kisses, a soft reassurance that he was not leaving her any time soon, rather, he still wanted to taste her, touch her in the most intimate way she would ever be touched. His lips kissed over to the inside of her thighs and back again to her folds before dipping down to her opening. There she could feel him licking into her, swallowing her secretions as if he intended to clean her dry -

Her heart was still racing and her body was humming. 

_She wanted more_.

"Tom," she whispered, her voice weak now with the pleasure. She knew she had to be the one to speak it. "Fuck me."

It came out low, throaty, and she blushed at her brazen, crass words and her stomach tightened. This was Tommen, the sweet boy who picked her flowers and made her lemon cupcakes, who always looked up to her so adoringly. Tommen, the quiet and gentle Baratheon, whom she always loved and respected and thought of as her little brother. Tommen, who grew up to be this handsome, sexy man who retained his heart of gold, kept his goodness and honesty in a ruthless and powerful family. Tommen, her brother-in-law who just ate her pussy with such expertise she came in minutes. Tommen, who took her command as law and scooted away from her, abandoning her still aroused flesh to move off the bed and strip himself of what was left of his clothes: black dress pants and black boxer briefs. His mouth was glistening with her juices and his hair was a mess but it was the hottest sight she had ever seen and he didn't seem to have any nervousness about being completely naked in front of her and only then did Sansa actually realize she was completely exposed to him as well, lying on top of the covers. 

He stumbled a little over to the nightstand where he shakily pulled a condom out of the drawer before returning to bed. Perhaps it wasn't the most sexy of moves but somehow to Sansa it was a turn-on, along with his cock jutting up and already glistening on its smooth bulbous head. His ample-sized dick might be unapologetically interested in her but Tommen's face showed consideration as he once again sat between her legs. Too far away for her taste. She wanted him close, to feel her breasts against his sculpted chest.

"Are you sure?" His voice wavered while hers had not. 

"Yes."

She swallowed hard, pushing down the nervousness. To try to solidify her answer, she slid her right leg up, foot trailing along his side. His hand caught her foot easily, the condom wrapper scraping up against her arch as he kissed her toes again, a small smile forming. Sansa's mind reeled a bit as her toes wriggled away from his lips to grab at the condom, squeezing the package between her first two toes. It caught Tommen by surprise enough to where he loosened his grip and she was able to take it from him...and fling it off to the side where it soundlessly hit the floor.

"I want to _feel_ you, Tommen." 

Simple, honest, raw. It is what she needed and there was no use in being shy about it, was there? And if she expected some kind of argument from Tommen on the matter, well, it wasn't happening as he lowered her leg back down on the bed so he could kiss and feel, traveling upwards with his mouth and hands as his body inched closer and closer to her. She thought she would die when he once again paid homage to her pussy as if it was the most delectable thing in his world and she was still so sensitive, so much that he built her up again in no time. But now she craved something even more fulfilling so she lifted up to reach down, grasping his hands to pull him up, wrapping her long legs around him. Even though they felt like jelly, they were able to lock him in place and she could now feel his chest against hers, his hands holding hers down in place, and it was _glorious_. 

His warm breath was exhaling in small huffs and she could smell herself, then taste as well when he lowered his mouth to hers for a long, slow, passionate kiss that seemingly took her breath away while giving her life. She chased it, arching up into him, seeking out more of his kisses and daring to slip her tongue inside. His met hers with a certain delicacy, another something so brand new to her, so much more intoxicating than being overwhelmed with a hurried, poking tongue. It made her wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him in as she reveled in the feel of his body flush against hers. His scent wafted through her nose, fresh linens and a thin veil of perspiration; both comforting and arousing, but she felt so empty while her whole body was humming for even more.

A simple tilt of her hips was all that Tommen needed to align himself up against her. There was a second of tension - this part always hurt the most for her - but when he slowly entered her, there was no pain, only pleasure, this stretching fullness and smoothness and her heightened whimpers intermingled with his gasps. His thrusts were methodical, careful, as if he was deflowering her and she knew this is how it should have been and for some reason tears formed in her eyes at the sensation. Everything was tight and fluid and connected and the heat in her belly intensified while her hips moved with his strokes ; their kisses turned more fervent and needy. Her already swollen and primed folds welcomed the precise angle of his cock that pressed and spread creating friction to help her climb once again to a perfect end.

He buried his face into her neck, kissing into her shoulder, his hands seemingly everywhere while his arms supported himself up, oh, she tightened her hands on his neck, dimly aware of her nails digging in. Higher, higher, the feeling flowed through her like cresting waves, and -

"Sansa." He moaned against her slightly dampened skin, his thrusts becoming more powerful. He moved his up to look down at her and she locked eyes with him. His lips were slightly parted, the chain hanging down from his neck spilling onto her breasts, the metal warm from his heated flesh. He bent down to touch his forehead to hers and murmured haltingly. "I love you. I've loved you since I was a boy -"

Swiftly she cut him off with a fierce kiss, one hand releasing her clutch on his neck to grasp at his pendant, her hips demanding a brutal pace that he could only comply with. His words reverberated through her entire being as she smoothed her thumb over the locket that held her wreath petal. Something stung deep in her heart and if she was not about to climax she would have cried over the sincerity and raw honesty in his declaration.

The meaning of his chain was not in memoriam for his beloved cat. It was in memoriam of his unrequited love for her.

She came with a stronger cry this time, both hands scraping into the sides of his neck, and whether the grunt from Tommen was from pain or pleasure she wasn't quite sure, but she guessed it was the latter when he gave one more deep thrust and followed her immediately with his own orgasm, releasing an unmanly moan softly into her neck and hiding his face from her. She could feel him pulsing madly into her as the last of her climax ebbed and she panted, breathless, resting her head against his, cheek to cheek, feeling his body grow slack against her own relaxing one.

Waiting for the inevitable pulling out and pushing away, she allowed a hand to card through his hair. She had not really touched him or explored him as he did with her body and she wondered if she should have made the effort as her legs relaxed and disengaged from his waist. Her mind was reeling as he took her movements as a plea to get off of her and she felt his cock withdrawing carefully and the resulting leak onto his expensive bedding.

He didn't leap off the bed to shower like she was used to seeing when she would lay hurting and unsatisfied and thankful it was over; instead he laid on his side, a hand tentatively placed on her stomach while the other skimmed her cheek. It was a tender gesture and Sansa couldn't resist catching his hand there and interlacing her fingers with his before daring to look him in the eyes. They were shining.

"Are you all right?" His husky tone was followed with a deep clearing of his throat. "I mean -"

"Yes," she quickly assured him."I'm - I'm good, Tom, thank you." Oh god, that sounded so lame. Absentmindedly her foot rubbed up against his leg. "I just - I mean, I -"

_I just slept with my brother-in-law and it was incredible. If Joff ever found out there would be hell for me to pay and I don't even know how sadistic Joff could really get but sometimes I can't even take him getting angry over the simple things he thinks I do. I slept with his brother. His brother! Out of all the people in the world I had to fuck the one guy who Joff would feel insulted by the most. His younger, more handsome, more loved brother. Joff would kill him. Or at the least make his life a living hell, too. What have I done_ ?

Sansa squirmed away from him and his warmth and comfort, suddenly cold and shivering as she slid off the bed, padding around for her underwear and gown, trying to appear calm as she tugged them back on. She was acutely aware of how damp her panties were as they made contact with her even more wet skin. Drenched from Tommen's semen and her own excitement. Somehow her gown felt even more restrictive than it did before she shed it for her brother-in-law -

_Oh dear God_.

"You know I cannot stay." She glanced over to him where he had moved to sit upright to stare at her. "I need to go."

"I'll drive you," he offered quietly. "People saw me leave with you so maybe it's best that -"

"No, Tommen, please. I'll call Arya to come pick me up. I think that's best. And if - if he's home, he will know my story checks out when Arya drops me off."

Without waiting for his reply she scurried out of his room and down the stairs, nearly tripping over Lady Pounce who laid supine at the bottom of the stairs. Sansa couldn't resist giving her a little head scratch before hastily locating and stuffing on her shoes and picking up the hankie Tommen had let her borrow. Her toes started to pinch again but she barely felt it as she glanced towards the fireplace, noting the broken glass. She smiled briefly before shaking her head and hobbling to the hall closet to retrieve her wrap and purse, whipping out her cell to call Arya. Thankfully she answered and agreed to pick her up at Tommen's, no questions asked. 

Funny. Arya was suspicious of everyone and anything and did not even bother to wonder what the hell she was doing at Tommen's house without Joff.

She heard footsteps and she nervously shut the closet door before attempting to smooth down her tousled hair into more placid waves. She bit her lip as she felt a small surge of wetness between her thighs and prayed she could get a shower before Joff came near her. Not that he had come close to her lately, or cared about having relations with her. She supposed she had Marg to thank for that, and she was also thankful there were no bruises that Tommen could have seen.. because, well, he did see her completely and utterly stark naked... 

"Sansa?"

She turned around to face him standing in the hall. He had pulled on a grey t-shirt that hugged his muscles and a pair of black track pants. He looked like he just got up from a hard twelve-hour sleep.

"Arya is on her way. She will be here soon." Her eyes downcast, she slung her tiny purse and wrap over her shoulder as she stepped forward and handed him his hankie. "Thank you."

"Are you going to Arya's? Or home?"

She detected the bitterness in his last word. Tommen was never bitter.

"Arya is taking me home. I - need a shower and I hope Joff isn't there yet." She flushed at her thoughtlessness. "Tom -"

"It's all right, Sansa." His tone returned to his usual kind one as stuffed the cloth in his pocket and pivoted, heading to the kitchen area. She followed silently, with only the sound of her heels clicking on tile.

He rummaged through the inner pocket of his previously tossed jacket and fished out his cell. He had his back towards her but she could hear him plain as day talking to Loras Tyrell. For some reason she stared holes into his back. He really had a wonderfully sculpted back and she hadn't really paid much attention to it when he was above her. From where she stood she could see the dark red angry lines her nails had made on both sides of his neck darting out from where his chain settled snugly up against him. The hand that held his phone to his ear... that finger has been inside of her, moving along with his mouth. God she had ruined everything about their relationship now, hadn't she? 

Wasn't Arya here yet?

Tommen tapped his phone and set it on the counter as if it was made of glass before he turned around.

"Joff and Margaery are still at the party with no signs of leaving. You should be fine for awhile." He slipped his hands into his pockets."Are you sure you are going to be okay?"

"Yes, of course." If it was really a lie she hoped it was at least a convincing one. "Tom... what happened... it was a one-time thing. You understand that, right? I was - we were caught up in a moment, and -"

"I understand."

Simply stated without malice or hurt, and he didn't attempt to move towards her and somewhere deep inside she was offended but she wasn't sure why. Well, what did she expect? For him to be angry, to throw a fit and demand they go back to his bedroom? To cause a scene by crying and pleading for her to stay? This was Tommen, the most calm and collected person she knew. He would be nothing but completely deferential to her and after being married to Joffrey for so many years it should be a sweet and welcomed change.

"Are _you_ going to be all right? You keep asking me but you -"

"I'm fine, Sansa." He smiled his signature drowsy grin. "As long as _you_ are."

"Of course. This doesn't change our relationship. It was - " _Don't say mistake. You know it wasn't a mistake because you really enjoyed every single second of it_ \- "Impulsive, out of character. I was upset -"

A honk of a horn thankfully interrupted her. She, usually so eloquent, wasn't doing so great with her words.

"That's Arya, I have to go. Let's just - put this behind us, for both our sakes. Agreed?"

"All right." Tommen hung his head, a hand rubbing at his neck where she had left her marks. He acquiesced to her briskly walking past the kitchen and through the living room and then beyond to the foyer where she reached the front door. She moved to open it but he was right there beside her to do it himself like the gentleman he was, courteous to his sister-in-law who had basically just informed him he was a one-night stand revenge booty call.

He was so close she could almost taste him. He had her scent on his body. She recalled his mouth against hers, his tongue in her folds, his breath in her face and his cock buried deep inside of her and she shivered before she could compose herself. How could he stand there so near and be so aloof? After what he did to her and what he had said -

_I love you. I've loved you since I was a boy_.

Blindly she started to make her way out the door but in a rash decision she would probably regret with everything else, she stepped back and shut the door to pull Tommen down to her for a kiss. She wanted - needed - to feel his lips one last time before facing the reality that was Joffrey and he willingly gave himself over to the frantic, passionate kiss, but did not attempt to pull her to him or demand she give him anything more. 

It took all she had to wrench away from him, her fingers closing her wrap tight around her shoulders as she slipped out the door, moving as fast as her painful high heels would let her. 

She didn't look back as Arya peeled out of the driveway but the feel of his lips on hers still touched her mouth and his declaration of love still seared through her thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is what came after months of no new material. I am already planning on a Tommen POV for the next one-shot in this series. :) Thanks!!


End file.
